Westin's Wyoming
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“We are here because I want to be here,” she interrupted, affecting the aristocratic manner she knew would remind him not to push too hard or too far.
He studied her intently for a moment. “Then, Princess, let me say this. Without information and in such a remote spot, I am powerless to protect you.” He held up a hand to still her as she started to comment. “Furthermore, it is clear you’ve placed your trust in this cowboy, this stranger. So be it.” He bowed his head slightly and gestured toward the house with one large hand. Analise preceded him down the walkway.
PIERCE SPENT THE next hour getting Sam settled and delegating work. He put men on duty creating something approaching a campout in the pavilion Jamie mentioned. He sent another up to replace the lock on the violated gate in Shadow Canyon, and turned over babysitting chores to Jamie to whom Toby had taken an instant liking. Even now the child was perched atop the mare as Jamie led her around the indoor arena, Cody’s yellow Lab trotting along while expertly avoiding hooves.
The dog was kind of an odd choice of breed for a ranch. For the first time, Pierce wondered where she’d come from.
The kid spied Pierce and waved vigorously, slipping in the big saddle when he took one of his hands off the horn. Pierce waved back before the boy fell, and turned away, a bitter taste in the back of his mouth as Patrick once again flitted across his mind.
The next thirty minutes were spent in a frustrating string of dropped calls to his partner at Westin-Turner. Bob Turner was an old army buddy and a good friend, but lately he’d been discontent. Pierce thought he knew why—it was Sue, Bob’s girlfriend, and she was exerting pressure on him to settle down.
The ranch hand who had driven the truck to the airstrip and back showed up as Pierce was leaving the barn, the Lab close on his heels. The man had a familiar look to him but he was far too young to have worked here in the days Pierce was around all the time. “You one of Tom Garvey’s boys?” Pierce asked.
“Yeah. I’m Lucas.”
Pierce offered his hand and they shook. Lucas was in his early twenties, sandy-colored hair, blue-eyed and wiry like all the Garvey men, no doubt strong as an ox despite it. He had a pointed chin and nose and about three days’ growth of beard which didn’t really amount to much. “I went to school with your older brother, Doyle.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lucas said. He shoved both hands in his pockets.
“How is Doyle?”
“He’s okay,” Lucas said, but his eyes shut down. Too late Pierce remembered Cody saying something in one of their phone calls about Adam firing Doyle last winter. Something about temper issues, a fight that broke another man’s nose. Though no formal charges were ever filed, Doyle had left and everyone knew why.
Pierce and Doyle had been adversaries in high school. Both of them had been screw-ups, but while Pierce’s antics had been confined to victimless rowdiness, Doyle’s had landed him in juvie. The boy was as mean and sneaky as his father, the elder Garvey.
Well, that was in the past. Pierce quickly changed the subject.
“For the next twenty-four hours, I want you to be a kind of unofficial bodyguard for our guests, especially Princess Analise,” he said. “Just keep an eye on things around the ranch. Report anything unusual to me. And later on, when we have the cookout, stick close by. I’ll find someone else to help you.”
“How about Darrell Cox?”
“The big guy with all the freckles? Sure, he’d be fine.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks,” Pierce said and took off for the house, the dog running ahead. After he called his assistant back on the land line, his plan was to get some answers from Princess Analise.
And that brought her fully back to mind. He rebuilt her face, then the feel of her seated behind him on the horse, especially when she’d bumped up against his back. That led to reviewing the second she’d spent sliding down his body when she dismounted and the rush of heat that had passed through him, the frisson like a nuclear reactor that had zapped him when their gazes met and held.
He tried to remember the details of the last woman he’d been serious about. Okay, maybe serious about wasn’t the right criteria. Maybe he needed to de-escalate to hot for.
A noise stopped him midway across the pasture that passed for a yard and he looked up in time to see Pauline, the Open Sky housekeeper, entering the house through the kitchen door, a yellow dish towel draped over her arm, the Lab underfoot.
In the next instant, a long forgotten memory hit Pierce with such force it stopped him midstep.
His mother on that porch. Back before the fancy rockwork, back before the big A-frame addition. Standing there with a black fry pan and a metal spoon, banging them together, wearing a yellow checked shirt so vibrant it was like a flag on a drag strip.
And just like that, another memory. His father, walking beside him, looking up at the noise and grinning, laughing at the clatter, slapping Pierce on the back in the process.
The memory was so real that for a moment the house before him seemed to shrink and so did he, flying back through the years into the body of his five-year-old self, the feel of his father’s good-natured thump thundering across his shoulders.
Pierce’s foot hitting the ground jarred the images clear out of his head. They’d been so real it took him a second to figure out what had happened.
And then he plucked the hat off his head and threw it to the ground. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Italy, not riding around on horses and babysitting royalty. And now he was having memories of his mother who had abandoned the whole damn family?
Who said, “You can’t go home again”? Thomas Wolfe? Well, the man was a genius, it was true.
He snagged his hat off the ground. The black felt was covered with snowflakes and that startled him; he hadn’t even noticed it coming down that hard. Glancing at the small one-story cabin where his father had exiled himself while his leg healed from a busted kneecap, he shoved the hat back on, grimacing as the cold brim settled on his forehead. If his old man got whiff there was a woman here with possible news of his long lost wife, he’d blow a gasket.
Crap.
Pierce put his head down and continued walking. Time to reassure General Kaare security was under control. Then he’d find out what the princess knew about his mother so he could take the past and put it where it belonged—behind him.
Way behind him.
ANALISE LIKED THE room she’d been given. The green-and-yellow color scheme complemented the honey-gold of the log walls, evoking spring even in the midst of foul weather. It was big, too. Maybe too big. In her present state of mind she would have preferred a windowless, one-door closet, but at least there wasn’t a balcony.
There was only one photo displayed and it was a wedding picture of a man and a woman on horseback, her in a billowing white gown, him sitting tall in the saddle. It was hard to see the particulars of their faces. All Analise could really tell was that the man looked a lot like Pierce, only darker, and the woman had very long blond hair. Oh, and that they were smiling.
Was this Pierce’s sister-in-law’s room? Was this his brother? It had to be. They looked so happy! What could have happened to ruin it for them?
The concept of leaving someone to whom you were obligated and with whom you had exchanged vows was so foreign to Analise that she couldn’t puzzle it out even though she knew half the world did it all the time.
While Bierta, her maid, opened suitcases and shook out clothes—way too many of them in Analise’s opinion; honestly, a ball gown? Two tiaras? Here?—Analise leaned against the log walls and peered through the large window. Though she stood at a distance from the glass she could see the snow had picked up and as she watched, a man walked out of a distant building, a pale dog rushing ahead toward the house.
Even from this distance she could tell it was Pierce and her lips curved. He stopped midway across the yard and stood there a long second, then threw his hat on the ground, swept it from the snow and pulled it back on his head.
She turned away.
“Tea, ma’am?” Bierta asked, standing close by and holding a tray on which sat a steaming cup of herb tea she’d brewed from the hot water she brought along in a thermos.
“Thank you,” Analise said as she perched on the edge of an upholstered chair.
Bierta, who couldn’t have been a day over forty, was a dowdy woman with brown hair and small, dark eyes that swam behind thick lenses. Her uniform was dark blue, her sensible shoes brown, and she moved with deliberate steps.
“Wouldn’t you like some tea, as well?”
“Oh, no, Princess,” Bierta said, looking downright scandalized by the suggestion she join the princess for a beverage. “I’m not the one who requires relaxation, ma’am. You’re the one whose very life is in danger. When I think of what could have happened to you in that alley if poor Claude hadn’t sacrificed himself for you, it makes me—” She stopped herself short and shuddered.
Analise put the cup down on the neighboring table so abruptly tea spilled over the lip onto the saucer.
“I heard the general talking to Mr. Vaughn,” Bierta continued, lowering her voice. “He said you were the target, that someone was trying to steal you away, that if they’d succeeded they would have had to kill you to remain safe themselves because your father wouldn’t rest until—”
“Please, Bierta,” Analise said firmly. “I don’t want to hear any more of this. We’re all a little unnerved after, well, everything. I’d like to be alone for a while.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Bierta said, managing to give the impression that murderers were lurking behind the cheery curtains. “We’re in the middle of nowhere here, if you’ll pardon me saying, Princess. The wilds. There could be a gunman on the prowl—”
“You’re going to have to fill in as Toby’s nanny,” Analise interrupted. “His things undoubtedly need unpacking.”
It took a few minutes, but Bierta finally closed the door behind her. Sighing, Analise got up from the chair and moved to the mirror. She picked up her hairbrush and ran it through the gentle waves, gathering it back in a silver clip. As she replaced the brush on the vanity, she heard a door close in the hall, and then another open in the other direction. Her attention caught, she stood very still and listened as footsteps approached her door. She took a step forward, waiting for whomever was out there to knock, but the footsteps stopped.
For well over a minute, she watched the knob, her heart in her throat, but it didn’t turn. Was someone still out there? If so, why didn’t they knock?
Swallowing hard, Analise grabbed the doorknob and pulled.
The hall was empty. A sound from the stairs had her spinning that direction in time to find Pierce stepping onto the landing.
“There you are,” he said.
“Did you pass anyone on the stairs?” she asked anxiously.
“No.” He narrowed his eyes. “Where’s your bodyguard, Princess? Shouldn’t he be standing out here, protecting you?”
Where was her bodyguard?
Pierce grabbed her arms suddenly and she blinked up at him.
“It looked like you were about to keel over,” he said, his grip pressing into her sleeves and the tender flesh beneath.
She stared into his eyes for a few seconds, then shook her head. “I don’t know where Harley is. Outside, I guess.”
“When did you have something to eat?”
“Breakfast.”
“Come on,” he said, his right hand sliding down her arm to grip her hand. The motion made her quiver as she allowed herself to be pulled from the room.
Chapter Five
Pierce led Analise into the dining room where he expected to find the rest of her party eating a late lunch. The room was empty. He pushed on a swinging door and they entered the warm kitchen.
Pauline, standing at the counter, was in the process of hanging a ceramic cup on the wrought-iron mug tree Adam had made back in high school. Each big cup was bright red. Some were chipped, all were stained by coffee brewed strong enough to usher a man into the frozen predawn morning, and yet they’d been hanging in the same places for twenty years. Amazing.
The retriever sat by Pauline’s legs, begging. Both Pauline and Bonnie turned at their entrance.
“Oh my, you must be the princess,” Pauline gushed. “I’ve seen your photograph in the magazines, but you’re twice as pretty in person.” She managed a little self-conscious curtsey, her graying hair swinging around her face as she dipped her head. She was a good-looking sixty-something-year-old woman who had been at the ranch for at least twenty years.
The dog trotted over and sniffed Analise’s hands. The princess knelt and ran her slender fingers over the animal’s smooth head.
“She’s a lovely dog,” she said, looking up at Pauline. “Is she yours?”
“Oh, no, she’s Cody’s dog. Well, actually, she belonged to his wife, Cassie, but Cassie left without taking her—” Pauline put two fingers against her lips and cast Pierce a glance. “Sorry, I got to rambling…”
“It’s okay,” he told her. He looked at the princess and added, “Marriages have a way of turning out bad in this family.” He introduced the housekeeper as the heart and soul of the Open Sky Ranch.
“I’m so pleased to have you here, Your Highness,” Pauline said as Analise stood. “Your maid said you weren’t to be disturbed so I didn’t bring you lunch and Pierce, I was coming to see what you wanted.”
“I’ll take care of both of us, Pauline,” Pierce said.
Pauline shook her head as she turned to the stove and took the lid off a huge pot. A wave of fragrant steam brought the heady aroma of meat and vegetables. “I can’t get over how different you are,” she said over her shoulder as she replaced the lid. “I mean from the boy who stormed away fifteen years ago. That boy didn’t spend any time in the kitchen unless it was to eat.”
“That boy didn’t need to. He had you spoiling him rotten,” Pierce said with a fond smile.
“Well, your brothers still can’t cook. Might have done them both good to get out on their own for a while.”
“They’ll both die here with their boots on, you know that. Meanwhile, have you seen a big guy dressed in black? Sunglasses, bald, intimidating?”
“I caught a glimpse of him outside when I took your father his lunch but I haven’t seen him since. I’m sure he’s around somewhere. I could use some of his muscle to tote things outside for the cookout.”
“I imagine much of the work for the cookout will go to you, Pauline,” Princess Analise said. “I want to thank you in advance and apologize for any trouble.”
“Mercy me,” Pauline said, waving away the princess’s concern. “We’re used to coming up with meals in a hurry.” She nodded at the pot on the stove. “I’ve already started a stew. The boys will take it out later and grill steaks and maybe hot dogs for your little cousin. We’ve got a big pot of beans going out there already and I’ll whip up some slaw, heat loaves of bread and fry potatoes. Berry cobbler fresh from the freezer for dessert. The boys are all looking forward to it.”
She took her coat off a hook by the door and shrugged it on. Looking at Pierce, she added, “If I can’t help you, I’m going to go get your father’s dirty dishes. Come on, Bonnie, let’s go see Birch.”
As soon as they’d left, Pierce put both hands on Analise’s shoulders and gently pushed her down atop a stool pulled up to a huge cutting block island.
Without the distraction of a padded coat, the full force of her body kept hitting him like a two-by-four. Round breasts filled the oyster-white silk blouse styled like a Western shirt but tailored perfectly. Her jeans looked as though they’d been made just for her, maybe even sewn onto her slender hips by a half dozen hand maidens wielding needles and thread. A simple diamond flower twinkled in the sensuous hollow of her throat.
And she smelled good. Not exactly perfume, not flowery but not heavily musky, either. He had the overwhelming urge to bury his nose against her skin and inhale deeply, filling his lungs with her essence. To be truthful—he had urges that went a lot deeper than those. Good thing there was a no-trespassing sign hanging around her pretty neck or he’d have a hard time concentrating.
He turned away and opened the refrigerator. “I’m making you lunch,” he announced as he gathered supplies. Unwrapping the bread Pauline had baked earlier in the day, he added, “I’d sure like to hear about that photo you mentioned.”
Analise fidgeted on the stool for a minute as he sliced leftover roast beef, grown on the ranch, the product of his brother Adam’s ranching techniques. Stemming his own impatience as Analise obviously sought a way to broach whatever it was she had to say, he kept quiet. She finally murmured, “Did you know your mother went to college with mine?”
“No,” he said, glancing up at her as he sliced cheese. “I didn’t know that.”
“They were roommates as required by the school for all entering freshmen. I think because my mother was a prime minister’s daughter and yours was a governor’s daughter, school officials thought they would get along well.”
Pierce cut the huge sandwich and placed half on his plate and half on hers. He poured two glasses of milk and handed her share over, then sat down on a stool across from her. “I know my mother went to a private university in New York, but that’s about all. My grandfather died before I was born, and Mom, well, she left when I was a little kid. I haven’t seen or heard from her since then.”
The princes ignored the food as she leaned across the bar, hands clasped. “Our mothers became great friends,” she began. “Confidantes, actually. They roomed together for several years until my mother left to go back to Chatioux to marry my father and your mother left to marry your father and come live in Wyoming.”
Pierce swallowed a bite and nodded. “Okay.”
“The photo I’ve seen many times over the years is a framed one sitting on my mother’s bureau of her and your mother at school. They are both nineteen years old and look so happy and excited.”
Pierce nodded again. What memories he had of his mother suggested this was an accurate description of her. He could vaguely recall lively eyes and a ready laugh. Yet as he drank the milk, he asked himself if this tenuous connection was a disappointment. Had he somewhere in the back of his head expected Analise to say she’d seen his mother relatively recently? Had he hoped for an explanation of some kind?
Of course he had.
He put the glass down and watched Analise try to take a dainty bite of a man-size hunk of beef. “So how does this tie into you being here?”
She met his gaze. “Our mothers stayed in touch at first. That’s how I knew about you and your brothers. Anyway, now Mother is interested in knowing how her old friend’s family is doing.”
“After thirty years?”
“Your mother’s disappearance was a shock to her, too,” Analise said as she set her uneaten sandwich back on the plate. “For years she expected Melissa to write or phone or come for a visit, but she never did.”
“Yeah, well, Mom took off with another man, you know.”
“Did your father ever try to find her?”
“Are you kidding? Everyone tried to find her. The police thought he’d hurt her. It was a zoo around here until she sent a postcard. She said she’d had enough, that this wasn’t the life for her. Eventually I guess she made new friends and had new kids and forgot all about the old ones.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Do your brothers?”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Princess. We don’t talk about my mother around here. We never have. And none of this explains why you told me you needed to be at the ranch. How much of this did you tell Cody?”
“I told him our mothers were school chums and that mine had asked me to stop here and return to Melissa’s children something she’d been holding on to for years. It’s a locket and it’s upstairs in my room.”
“And he bought that?”
“I wouldn’t have come if he hadn’t,” she said as a flash of irritation ignited her eyes like lightning.
“Yeah, okay, point taken. But it’s not really why you’re here?”
“Not entirely, no.”
He gestured at her plate, wishing he’d made her something fancier, a little daintier. She didn’t really look like a big meat-and-potatoes kind of girl. “Maybe there’s some soup left over from last night—”
She picked the sandwich up again and took a healthy bite. After chewing and swallowing, she looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry I’m beating around the bush. Isn’t that the right expression?”
“Yeah, that covers it.”
“The truth is my mother left something with your mother all those years ago that your mother promised to destroy. She didn’t, though. Instead she wrote my mother and explained she’d decided to hide it somewhere very safe. I’m here to retrieve and destroy it.”
Pierce stared at her a second before laughing. “My mother hasn’t set foot on this ranch in thirty years. What in the world does your mother think you’re going to be able to find after all that time?”
“I’m not at liberty to say what it is.”
He opened his arms wide. “What’s your plan? Search every nook and cranny? Be my guest, knock yourself out.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Your mother said she had hidden this object with ‘resting souls, high in the summer sky.’ Does that mean something to you?”
“No,” he said quickly. Okay, maybe it did bring something to mind but this was nuts. A glance out the window revealed snow coming down at a slant, meaning the storm was arriving early. Briefly, he wondered if the men had gotten the heifers back closer to the ranch.
Well, hopefully the storm would run its course by morning so these folks could depart on time. Any which way, if the one feeble clue Analise had provided pointed where Pierce thought it pointed, it was beyond reach for the time being which was fine by him.
He turned as he heard a noise at the door leading to the dining room, expecting to see someone push their way into the kitchen. Analise’s gaze followed his. When no one appeared, he got off his stool and approached the door, but a sudden cry from Analise caused him to turn before he’d made it that far.
She pointed at the television with one hand and covered her mouth with the other, her beautiful eyes wide with alarm. He looked at the TV.
What appeared to be a stock photo of Analise on a ski slope filled the small flat screen. It was immediately replaced by a new photo, one of a man with a flaming red handlebar mustache. Pierce quickly adjusted the volume.
“—the driver for the daughter of King Thomas of Chatioux during her Seattle stay. Falstead’s body was found stuffed into the trunk of his limousine which was pulled out of Puget Sound early this morning as commuters looked on. Police are not disclosing the cause of death at this time but sources say it appears Falstead’s been dead since he was reported missing three days ago. Police plan to question Princess Analise in the days to come.”
The news moved on to the next story and Pierce turned to look at Analise. She was still standing, fingertips braced on the cutting block as though they supported her entire weight.
“Your driver?”
“I didn’t know his name,” she said, eyelashes fluttering against pale cheeks, voice raised to be heard over the volume of the television. “I thought he didn’t come that morning because he was lazy.”
“Did you call the agency he worked for?”
“Personally? No, of course not. Someone must have, though.”
Pierce took a step around the island. “Princess—”
“Who would do such a thing? Why?”
He shook his head. “You’d better call the Seattle Police Department.”
“My mobile phone doesn’t work here.”
“There’s one on the wall over there but the unit in the office would be more private.”